


The Watcher Diaries

by cyberpunkjinx



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I have no idea how to tag, Original Character(s), hermitblr, hermitblr demise 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberpunkjinx/pseuds/cyberpunkjinx
Summary: Tales from the eyes of the Watchers, overseeing their new little game of death.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1 - The Beginning, duh.

Twenty minutes until the game begins.  
The final preparations are being completed. The population has grown exponentially, far beyond what we imagined. Who knew so many were willing to gamble their life for such a silly little thing such as this?

The rules are in place. The teams have been created. Rouges weave in between the groups of people sharing coloured armbands, unaligned yet prepared nonetheless. It is a sight to behold. The other watchers and I sit back, my finger posed over the button to announce the start of the game.

“Everything is ready?” One says. It’s posed as a question, but it’s more of a statement. 

“Yes. Let the people roam free. We will get them all eventually, regardless.” Another responds. 

“Very well. The clock strikes midnight.” I say, pressing on the console button and dispersing the message far and wide. We watch from the skies, the trees and the hills, as people begin to draw their weapons and totems and scatter into the land. A grin spreads across my face. 

“My my. That was fast.” 

A fresh corpse, barely moved from where it stood not two minutes ago, drains of colour. Another star appears in the Watchers eyes. Grey skin knits itself back together, the soulless body of a once moral human standing upright once again.

“Welcome to the greyskins, little one.” I mumble to myself. “You weren’t so lucky after all, your name has failed you.”

“I suppose our measures for prolonging the game were not that effective.” The watcher with the purple dress speaks. Her crown bears the Watcher’s eye. Another one dies. 

“The people are savages. There’s not much we can do to prevent it.” A robotic voice replies. The mouthless watcher looks down with hollow eyes. Another one dies.

I pay them no mind. I type into the console, updating the players of those souls already lost into the cosmos. “Seven... in an hour.” I smile. “Impressive.”

“They want to make more teams.” Purple dress responds, eyes cast off to the side to read the chat feed. 

“Then let them. Betrayal makes the soul taste all that more bitter.” I grin. Their lack of foresight is both saddening and hilarious. There can only be one winner in Demise. There is no team prize. 

“They’re dropping like flies.” Robot voice points out as I continue to update the death feed. “At this rate it will be over in a day.” He sounds worried. Well, as worried as a robot could sound. “How in the End have they found the time to create poison?” He says, almost impressed. 

“No questions. Only entertainment.” I chuckle mirthlessly. “Only... Demise.” 

“You are getting... too into this.” Purple crown replies. What’s her name? Rocky? Roxy? One of them. “It’s only a game to them.” She pointed out. “It’s resources to us.” 

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be entertaining to watch.” I snort. “They’re slaughtering each other for a chance at a prize that doesn’t exist. It’s bloody hilarious.” I smile. “We will have to feign death eventually, too.” I point down to our projections, running around as the other players do. “I still can’t believe you guys joined teams.” Smirking, I turn to look at them. “Relying on others in a group is a pity tactic.” 

“It helps us blend in with the players.” Robot voice piped up. “Plus, I simply couldn’t resist joining the team called ‘Enders’ when I, myself, am from the end.” He put a hand on his chest. He’d probably be smiling, if he had a mouth.

“We’re Watchers, T. We’re all from the End.” I pointed out, much to his dismay.

“Yes, but... originally! Before I was a Watcher!” T rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. So was I.” I say in a deadpan tone, eyebrow raised. I receive and elbow to the ribs and silence. I continue to update the death feed. “Hm. It appears the false soul within my projection was... kicked out of the body. Interesting.” I frown, teleporting to the players location. I watch the colour drain from my own skin, vivid green hair turning a dull grey. “Tch. Hackers.” I grumble, returning to the other two swiftly.

“What was that about joining a team?” Roxy taunted, an amuses look on her face. “Because, well, we’re still alive.” She smirked. I narrow my eyes at her but she pays me no mind.

I return watching the game. Another one dies.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're all scarily efficient at killing eachother, so we step in.

“It’s only the first day...” I mutter, disbelief in my voice. I scroll through the death feed idly, gazing upon the hundreds of demises. The players have been at each other’s necks since the game began, and at this rate there won’t be anyone left for tomorrow.  
We blink our eyes. A lost soul calls out. Then another.

“They are agitated.” The robotic one mumbles. “They perished far too soon, or so they say.” He peers down to the world below. 

“Let then complain. Violence for violence is the rule of beasts.” I snort, yet something tells me the people will only get more upset as the toll rises.

“The game was not supposed to be this short. Not this large. Almost all of our players are dead and we barely got settled in.” Roxy sighs. “All three of us have perished, too.”

“And? We were never players in the first place. Only Watchers.” I raise an eyebrow. “It matters not.” I update the death feed. Another one dies.

We sit in silence for a while, watching the sparse remaining people from above. Greyskins wander the surface in swarms, sharpening sticks and preparing projectiles.

“This one is on a rampage.” T pipes up after a while. I follow his gaze, down to a young unhinged looking lad. “Almost a one man team kill.” 

I laugh. “Such a shame he will perish like the rest. He had potential.” 

We blink our eyes. The lost souls call out to us again.

Roxy sighs, as I do. “They will not be silent.” She mumbles, holding her hands behind her back and peering down. “At this rate it will be over by the end of today. We must intervene.” She looks almost sorrowful. 

“We are benevolent. They will favour us more if we give them a second chance.” I consider the concept, pulling up the chat logs. “Very well. We shall give the people one more chance at life.”

We blink our eyes. The lost souls return. Colour floods into the monochromatic mobs, people dispersing almost immediately. 

“An hour of grace. And bide your time.” I project my voice, reaching the farthest corners of the land. “Final chance.” 

“I wonder who will be first dead this time?” Roxy chimed in. “If it’s the same person again I will be impressed.” She chuckled lightly, sitting on a ledge made of air.

“Only time will tell.” I smirk, watching intently as the groups begin to plot again. An hour passes and the kill feed is updated. 

“Surely that was deliberate.” I say, snorting quietly as the name fails them again. Unfortunate for them, sure, yet amusing nonetheless. Another one dies.

“Poisoned by cookie.... stabbed in an alleyway.... drowning in diamonds? Tch, capitalist.” T scoffed, raising his eyebrow as he scrolls through the death list. “These people are creative, I will give them that.” He stretches his arms above his head. Why does he need to stretch his arms? He’s a robot, is he not? I think nothing more of it. Another one dies.

The sun begins to set on yet another eventful day. Our game of death has not gone to plan. But that is not to say it has failed. In fact, it is quite the opposite. The players bond, the players betray and the players kill. Orchestrated like Rube Goldberg machine with a deadly twist. We, the watchers spread our wings and survey the skies, shrouded by the darkness of the setting sun and the rising moon. 

Another one dies.

“Other servers are beginning to notice us.” I hum, flicking the screen over to the universal feed. Questions of the abnormally high death rate pepper amongst the construed chaos that is the universe. “They may try to intervene if we do not say something.” 

“Tell them it is nothing more than a game. They cannot see our difficulty, so they will not know it is Permadeath.” Roxy waves her hand dismissively. Another one dies. “It is not their place to bother us with their measly concerns.”

“Very well.” I send a message to those concerned. Explaining it is a friendly deathmatch, nothing more. 

Another one dies.


End file.
